Block format madmen

Block format madmen

Time turns to dimes, when dimes become nickels. Copper becomes silver, a metaphor for something rather distinct. Mindlessness becomes a daily concern, inhabiting everybody around, Laughing much like madmen with their mercury-filled hats. Too bottom heavy to see the surface, babies swim when they cannot walk. Of course, nothing falls straight up when it falls straight down. Wordless in some sort of simile, a comparative in its finest. Bound by something greater than just language itself, Is the boundaries in which chains and metal hold together. I know not of which any man speaks, or what the good book tells us, But I do know one thing in a figurative state. That madmen and the dimes and the copper, the silver, and the nickels, Persuaded by the time that consumes each and blends together, Is the foundation for which poetry is bound on by its stitches.